Chapter One : A Refuge from My Selfishness
---
"Dots… dots…"
I don't know when the balance shifted like this.
I don't know when it all began.
No—none of that mattered anymore.
I sat down on the floor out of sheer weakness.
My legs could no longer hold me.
I collapsed, and I didn't care.
But I was happy.
"I did it."
I whispered slowly, as if reminding the person before me that I was capable of doing it.
Yes, I saw it—
The look of terror on his face.
The look I had longed to see.
"Did you like it?"
I whispered louder, as if someone was pressing down on my chest,
As if a lump was caught in my throat.
I couldn't tell anymore—
But I knew.
This was real.
The bastard who tried to make my belly a womb for his son
Was now writhing in rage,
Unable to do anything.
Yes, that's right. I left him with nothing to act upon.
My gaze dropped from his miserable, distorted face to my stomach—
No, my womb.
It was bleeding.
And it was bleeding slowly,
Like a scene from a movie playing in extreme slow motion.
I watched it with utter coldness, tinged with pride.
I looked at the knife in my hand—
A knife whose beautiful color had faded,
Whose elegant purpose had vanished.
All that remained was a blot of great triumph.
Yes, I did it.
I took away what he wanted—
What he had worked so hard to obtain.
The child. He wanted the child.
So I destroyed the womb.
With my own hand,
I severed the bond that had wrapped itself around my body—
A bond that had once granted me warmth and hope.
Even though everyone abandoned me and the world never showed me mercy,
Even before I knew the meaning of tears,
I had learned—
Nothing comes from simply sitting still.
But now... I truly couldn't bear it anymore.
My vision blurred terribly.
How long had I been bleeding?
I was losing the will to resist sleep.
My eyelashes closed slowly, refusing to obey any command.
I mocked myself.
Did I really expect a man like him, a monster, to call for help?
Really, what a pathetic way to die.
But it was okay.
As long as his wish never came true, it was okay—
That's what I told myself.
"Hah… haha…"
I didn't know what escaped my lips—
Was it self-mockery?
Or a laugh at him and his pitiful state?
I heard the sound of my own breathing—
Rough, heavy, like something metallic being dragged across the floor.
That annoying sound...
It was my breathing.
But I couldn't stop it.
I just listened—
As it sang a farewell lullaby.
I couldn't walk anymore,
So I crawled.
Leaving behind a trail colored in a hue I could no longer distinguish.
It seemed faded, yet heavy.
I just kept crawling, until I reached—
Yes, I reached the one who tried to steal my soul,
Who wanted to claim my body to plant a part of himself inside me.
I didn't do anything. I couldn't.
I just moved closer,
Stretched my hand toward him.
He grabbed it—
Then released it,
As if it were something ruined that needed to be destroyed.
As if touching my fingers desecrated his purity.
As if my body was diseased.
I had left the knife behind—
The same knife that tore through my womb,
That ended my last hope,
My dream that never came true.
A dream buried deep in oblivion.
I lost all sense of time. I felt nothing.
But his trembling eyes awakened something inside me—
Something I had always fought for:
Victory.
From the beginning,
Since forever—
Since birth, I had worked hard—
Worked for myself,
To achieve victory.
And this fool would not be the first or the last on my list.
Even if it cost me the parts of myself I loved most.
It didn't matter.
Truly, it didn't.
As long as I achieved my victory,
The method didn't matter.
As long as the final outcome was mine,
I didn't care how I got there.
Because my very nature would always lead me to triumph.
That's what I wanted.
I was like a haunted corpse who loved a victory that didn't belong to her—
Yet she claimed it.
"What… do you think?"
My breath was shaky, but I spoke to him.
"Do you still want me?"
"Don't you see what I did? Have you lost hope?"
I couldn't take it anymore.
I tried to rise and call for help—
But it was no use.
I could feel myself slipping into a darkness with no end.
Darkness that had always been my only refuge.
A place I was too afraid to flee—
Lest I shatter again.
How could I escape it
When I was raised in it,
Adorned myself with it—
Without reason?
I felt like a failure.
True, I had won—
But I had lost so much.
I might even lose my life—
If the ambulance didn't reach me in time.
The dizziness showed no mercy,
And my legs refused to move.
I simply sank deeper and deeper—
Where?
Of course—into my darkness.
My breath slowed,
My heartbeat weakened,
Announcing my end was near.
I laughed at myself.
Escaping one dark reality, only to fall into another.
It seemed as though the darkness had no intention of letting me go.
And before I realized it—
I didn't want to let it go either.
It had become part of who I am.
And I accepted the truth of my nearing end.
That's how I collapsed and closed my eyes.
— In a place filled with the scent of sickness, the scene was completed —
I thought I had died.
Everything felt perfect—
Better than books.
I felt it—
A wave striking my heart,
As if trying to retrieve something that could no longer return.
Then came the second…
Then the third…
The fourth…
And finally—
"Gasp!"
The soul that was about to depart came rushing back.
The doctors had succeeded in stabilizing the patient—
But he stubbornly refused to open his eyes,
As if he couldn't believe he had survived.
No one asked.
No one touched.
He simply raised himself and groaned—
"Ah… ugh…"
His hands reached for the pain—
But found nothing.
Only a vast emptiness.
A chill that made his fingers curl.
The large wound was gone.
The doctor's stitches had found their way,
Returning his stomach to its former shape—
Like an artwork,
As if the cut had been a mere artistic error,
Now corrected by a professional.
It was as if the doctor had been saved himself—
He was overwhelmed with joy and left without a word.
And with that,
I was left alone.
The air swirled around me.
I tried to grasp that white room.
Ran my fingers over the sheets,
And over the machines beeping above my head.
It was a hospital.
Ordinary and familiar.
As if I were reliving a favorite scene countless times.
The smell of anesthetic filled the room.
Acrid and unpleasant—
But I didn't let it bother me.
Because I had stopped thinking.
Nothing around me mattered.
Only one thing caught my attention—
Only one.
My hand, touching my belly,
Felt cold.
As if numb.
But I knew it wasn't.
I was just disappointed in the way I had achieved my victory this time.
I had truly lost it.
"Hah…"
I exhaled softly and sat up on the white bed.
The sound of heavy footsteps drew me in—
There were many.
And they didn't sound like just a doctor.
The door slid open surreally, like a primitive stage performance.
I wasn't surprised.
I had expected the police.
Yes—
Especially if that bastard was the one who called them.
But I wouldn't believe it—
Even if I heard it with my own ears.
"Noya Nereth?"
"Yes."
A cold voice responded.
Green eyes stared at the blue uniform.
He didn't hesitate.
He wasn't afraid.
He just stared and waited.
"The fingerprints on the knife—"
Noya cut the officer off before he could finish.
He didn't need excuses.
Nor lies.
Only the truth.
"I stabbed myself."
I sighed lightly and looked at him without change.
"His prints are there because I handed him the knife—so he'd feel it."
"What?"
"I mean this… So he'd feel that I destroyed the home of his heir—
So he'd never desire touching someone as broken as me."
A man who seemed like a chief stepped forward.
"Noya Nereth."
"What?"
"You know… This isn't a case we can easily handle."
"I know that very well."
I added with a hint of sarcasm,
As if denying everything they stood for.
"If it were that simple, I would've filed my report the day I was born—
Or maybe the day my father ran off, leaving me with his debts."
I fixed my gaze on the officer who stepped forward and sat before me.
I knew the police wouldn't do anything to them.
Because they needed those people.
It was impossible for the system to be free of filth—
And the government used that filth for its own gain.
It wasn't any of their fault.
It was only the fault of my vile father—
The father who borrowed money and ran away,
Leaving his son to pay in his place.
I sighed.
Came back from the spiral of my thoughts and studied the officer's face.
It seemed he understood everything—
How it had come to me slicing my own womb.
His gestures hinted at something distant.
His examining gaze couldn't offer any proper consolation.
But I didn't want his comfort anyway.
Let them keep their pity—
It wouldn't save me.
But…
But…
Ah…
His next words—
His wor—
His words—
They struck me,
They hurt.
Time stopped.
I lost my breath.
All the surrounding noise faded into the background,
Like a scene from a movie I no longer cared to watch.
I felt like I was falling, spiraling into a confused void.
"What do you mean?"
My throat was dry; those words barely came out.
I didn't want to hear the answer.
I didn't want to know.
I saw the officer open his mouth—mocking me, perhaps.
His eyes studied me deeply,
Trying to comfort me… in the wrong way.
Just don't speak.
Yet he was slow with his words—
Words I didn't want to hear.
> "There's a possibility your uterus is still intact."
"We need to examine you to be sure."
I shook my head forcefully and looked around.
I saw it—
The beautiful image that pulled me from that whirlpool.
The same fruit knife that once drew the curtain over my miserable life
Sat on the table beside my bed.
Its gleam caught my eye again,
And unlike last time,
I didn't resist.
Without hesitation,
I reached for it,
Lying down as I did.
I raised it in a motion that brought no smile,
Only a strange comfort.
The officer panicked and rushed to stop me.
But I wouldn't let him.
I wasn't going to be that easy.
"Don't move."
I didn't shout.
I wasn't angry.
I simply felt… nothing.
Not that I had felt much before.
I didn't accept defeat—
So I ended up losing myself instead.
> "We need to make sure it's completely severed."
I said it while bringing the blade closer once again.
My face remained unreadable.
Not a flicker in my voice.
I didn't care.
A cold layer of numbness wrapped around me.
> "Stop, Noya Nerith!"
"You couldn't fix my chaotic life, so what right do you have to stop me?"
I wasn't biased, nor extreme.
I simply wanted to claim my victory—
With my own hands.
Then the doctor stepped in—into the mess.
> "It was only a possibility, and far less likely than you think."
He approached slowly, his eyes gentle,
As if he was trying to soothe me.
He had examined me—
And knew I wasn't just another college student.
I had grown up far too soon.
So he truly tried to help—he was starting to understand how we think.
But I found no comfort.
> "You've already lost the ability to carry a child. There's no need to kill yourself now."
I took a breath.
And calmed down.
His words had purpose.
They gently touched a dark corner of my heart.
I lowered my guard.
With a careful step forward,
The officer took the knife from my hand.
> "Are you calm now?"
"Don't joke like that again,"
I replied, sharper than before.
> "Just a possibility—we needed to observe your reaction."
"Did you enjoy it?"
I answered with bitter sarcasm:
> "I sincerely apologize."
> "I don't need it."
The officer knew there was no use in this conversation,
So he moved on.
> "You'll need regular checkups—maybe even a therapist."
I watched him talk. I didn't care.
> "Are you paying?"
He stopped, visibly surprised.
Yes—
I had cast away my pride when it came to money.
> "You're not covering the bills, and I have no money."
I stood up, pulling out the IV.
Put on my coat,
And walked forward.
I patted the officer's shoulder.
> "If I had the money to pay,
I wouldn't have dropped out of university and started working
—just to avoid selling my body."
I barely reached the door.
Pain was cutting through me.
Even breathing felt like a reaper's sickle brushing my throat.
I slipped out,
Leaving one last statement behind—
A final trace of my selfishness:
> "Thanks for saving me.
You can pretend the case never existed."
I left them,
As if fleeing that place—
Fleeing my grim reality,
Fleeing my miserable life.
---
I returned to my lovely apartment—
But it was a mess.
I wasn't tired.
I simply cleaned.
I wasn't the destructive type,
Nor was I careless.
Despite the debt, I still bought myself the best.
Products that spoiled rich kids begged their parents for.
I took care of myself—
My looks,
My food.
I even learned how to cook,
To maintain a balanced diet.
The only thing I couldn't keep
Was my university education.
I dropped out in my second year.
After cleaning and eating,
I got ready for my part-time job.
I had already lost one,
And my evening shift was about to start.
And unfortunately—
It was Thursday.
Which meant I also had a night shift
From midnight till dawn.
I grabbed my bike keys
And headed to the parking lot of the hotel where I lived.
Put on my helmet and rode off.
Not flashy,
Not cheap,
Not something you saw often.
Just a beautiful bike that suited my taste.
It had all the specs I loved.
---
Evening came,
And I arrived at the store.
A short girl was waiting for me.
> "Here you go."
She tossed the key and ran off
Like she'd seen a ghost.
I didn't blame her.
Not really.
But…
I didn't agree with her reaction either.
And so I was left—
Again.
In this store.
And since it was Thursday,
There would be plenty of students.
I would be left alone,
With my forgotten memories.
With something I never wanted to end—
But that didn't end by my choice.
It's as if fate was mocking my struggle.
I melted into that storm
And continued my night shift—
With feelings I couldn't even say aloud.